


Game of Villainy

by C4L3B



Category: Sherlock (TV), Superlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Character Death, Coma, Crossover, End of the World, Gen, superlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4L3B/pseuds/C4L3B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you sure you want to play this game, Holmes?"</p><p>"I'm afraid you'd lose."</p><p>John Watson, a former assistant of the world's greatest and only consultant detective Sherlock Holmes, wakes up in a hospital bed with no memory of 5 years ago. As he encounters a meeting with our familiar Winchester boys, and then finally introducing us to Mr Holmes who has a story to tell himself, they all collaborate to defeat the game of our beloved Sherlock and Supernatural villains; Crowley, Lucifer and Jim Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game of Villainy

**A** middle-aged man, roughly at the age of 41 lies in a hospital bed of London Bridge Hospital, in England. The sand coloured hair man begins to awake from his one-year coma. He opens his eyelids for the very first time in 12 months and they feel heavy as a rock, and rather sore. His eyesight has become rather blurry so he cannot see very much at this moment. The bright hospital light waves side to side soundly above him flashing into the centre of his pupils. The man’s hearing has still not quite recovered yet, or that is what he had thought at least. The hospital was in fact very quiet. It was as if he was the only person in the entire building, which of course he was. 

A few minutes later, his eyesight had now fully recovered as he lays there for several moments paralysed in bed, his whole body in extreme agony. He pops his head up slightly trying to look through a window nearest to the door; however, from his angle it is merely impossible to see that far away. As he slowly removes his weight from the hospital bed, ripping off tubes and patches covered around his body, he sits up at the edge of his bed sliding his feet into rough material slippers, which were placed just in front of him.

He makes his way up towards a set of drawers and opens them curiously hoping to find something that might make him trigger to remembering something. Yet he finds nothing at all. As he continues to scatter around his room, he spots one thing that he has not yet checked, and the most obvious one of that. A set of fresh clean clothes sat onto a chair neatly next to the bedroom door: a jacket, a pair of denim jeans, a vintage beige woolly jumper, and a pair of dark brown leather shoes. 

The man fully dresses himself with the set of clothes; anything is better than uncomfortable hospital wear. He searches throughout his jacket pockets and jean pockets before taking a step outside of his room, and finds a black wallet with his identification card, several bankcards, and two twenty-pound notes inside. 

“John Watson.” he murmurs to himself looking over his identification card thoroughly, the name ringing a bell inside of his head. Of course, it would have, as it is his name after all. John shoves the wallet back inside his jacket pocket and opens the door leading out of the room. 

John begins to explore the entire hospital, room by room. He does not know why he suddenly felt a tingling feeling of butterflies swarming around inside of his gut every time he noticed something suspicious, or whenever he explored each room. It is as if, whomever he might had have been before, he may have been some sort of police officer. 

A whole twenty minutes passed since John had been searching throughout the whole hospital and he was now ending where the exit doors and entrance was. He unfortunately did not find a single thing to go by, but he knew for sure that something strange was going on, and that persistently he was going to find out what. 

He heads near the end of Ward 7 and suddenly sprouting out of no where an unfamiliar noise appears from the inside of the last room that he has not heard of in his entire lifetime before, and certainly not a pleasant sound either. He trips his heel and stands quietly for several moments, waiting for the noise to appear again…and just as he had predicted, here it was, the strange noise. John presses his back against the white hospital wall beside the door and slyly peeks through the dusted window. The room pitched black. John does not seem to see anything at all and begins to look further into the room, so close that his nose is just about touching the glass…and that was it. That was when he saw it. The unnatural thing that creeps behind this door, ripping open the disintegrated flesh from a human beings’ body by its sharp shark-like teeth. It drags the body into the corner where another two bodies are at lay for night supper, John assumes. 

John’s eyes widen in terror, in disbelief! He begins to believe if this is all just a nightmare, or a movie of some sort. A small whimper then appears from the back of his throat and he quickly covers his mouth, his breathing becoming faster and heavier. John runs as fast as he can through the corridors to where the registration area is. He slides through corridor to corridor while he hears the flesh-eating monster follow right behind him. He makes it to the registration area and slams himself against the exit doors trying to open them, but the doors are locked. Another four creatures appear in front of him, their eyes bloodshot red and their faces somehow looking very pissed off. 

“Shit!” John shouts panicking, leaning against the glass exit door. He roams his eyes around quickly like an insect trying to find a way to get out of the building but does not seem to find anything at all. All five of the flesh eating monsters look at his every movement, their heads twitching every second. John then, with his luck, spots a small silver knife lying on the ground beside the registration desk from the corner of his eye. The gap is a mere 6 metres away and John wonders if he can make it, but he takes it as a one and a million chance. 

John anxiously stands still, eye contacting the monsters as they gasp heavily from the back of their throats desperately for fresh and clean food from weeks of starvation. He moves his arm slightly towards another direction as they watch every move, and this was his chance. He quickly races towards the registration desk skidding across the hard brick ground and picks up the metal knife cutting himself on the hand slightly during. The monsters were not too far behind him and one managed to lap on top of him, its mouth wide-open and its teeth as sharp as the knife, blood dripping all around its face from a recent meal.

Just as John was putting up a hard fight with the four creatures in front of him, and the one on top, a loud gunshot comes beaming through the unprotected glass in that split second and comes plunging right through the creature’s head, it’s brains and blood splattering all over John’s body and the tiled ground. Another six bullets are shot into the air, capturing the heads of the enemies’ and John’s thought on reality was now overruled.

A silence hits the room and John lays there on the ground, eyes openly wide from shock and his heart plundering, his mind in all kinds of places right now trying to figure out what just happened and what is going to happen - the five creatures dead as a brick. A cold and wet splash of water then hits his warm and bloodied face and he comes back to his so-called reality with things he thought were only real in horror movies.

“Not a demon.” says a light-brown, shorthaired man shoving his silver flask back into his leather jacket pocket. A similar looking man, with dark brown mid-length hair replies with a short sarcastic smile merely saying ‘Really?’

“What? Demon?” John replies in a soft yet husky tone since he has not spoken in months and speaking is strangely new to him now. 

“Did it bite you?” asked the light-brown haired man, his voice a pure American Kansas accent.

“No- that was a demon?”

“Sam.” quickly speaks the light-brown haired man walking out of the building to his vehicle parked outside, opening the boot for a better weapon. 

“Ah, no, that was a zombie.” Sam replies to John’s question kindly as John removes the body from him and makes his way up.

“A zombie…so there are demons and zombies? But that’s impossible-”

“Sorry to break it to ya blondie.” The light brown haired man cuts in through the door. “Oh, and, we gotta get get moving. Unless you wanna be pork chops for dinner.” he finishes with a small smile and walks back out. Sam and John giving a short stare towards each other and then making their way out to the black impala.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so let’s get this straight. You woke up in an abandoned hospital today, and you can’t remember anything? Anything at all?” 

“Yes, and no, I can’t.” 

“Well great, now we got a dude who doesn’t know who the hell he is while we and Cas try to defeat the apocalypse. Just great.” 

“Take it easy on him Dean; he just woke up from a coma.” 

“Whatever…where the hell is Cas anyway?” 

“Apocalypse? Wait, who’s Cas-” 

“You called?” a winged man wearing a light brown trench coat in a low tone appeared, sitting right beside John looking towards Dean’s direction. 

“Holy shit!” exclaimed John, sliding along to the window shocked and surprised as Cas took a small look towards him confused. 

“Cas, where you been man? You just spoofed and let us hanging while we saved this guy.” 

“I…was trying to find a lead on how to stop the apocalypse.”

“And?” 

“It seems…that we will just have to accept their game.” 

“Game? What game? Okay, stop the car? Stop the car!” John raised his voice in fury and confusion. Dean stopped the car and both Sam and Dean turned around to look at John. 

“Who is this oaf?” Castiel asked as John left the vehicle slamming the door shut. 

The Winchester boys both looked at each other sighing and then suddenly out of nowhere lifted their palms in the air, equal to each other. 

“Rock, paper, scissors!” they both shouted, however, Dean lost the hand gesture as he was scissors and Sam chose rock. 

“Dean…” huffed Sam, not at all surprised.

“Okay, again, just one more time.” Dean replied enthusiastically. 

“Rock, paper, scissors!” 

“God dammit!” 

“Dean, you always pick scissors.” 

“Shut up.” Dean huffed rising from his seat and opening the door leaving the vehicle. He took a step onto the pavement and walked towards John, John taking deep big breathes while he bent down resting his palms on his knees. 

“Just, tell me what is going on. I want answers, okay.” 

“Alright.” Dean replied.

“What’s happening? Where is everyone? Who are you two? What is that thing, Cas?” 

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down big boy. Okay, zombies, demons, whatever. Sam and I hunt them. We are hunters, grew up hunting things…what’s the word, supernatural things. Cas, he’s an Angel. He’s on our side, you don’t have to worry about him.” 

“An Angel. What like, halo and Christmas angel?”

“Not exactly, more like, annoying no good for nothing angel.” 

“Okay…so why are there demons or zombies? I’ve never seen them before?”

“That’s because people like me and Sam killed them before people like you could see them. Let us just get this straight; an apocalypse started 2 years ago by three men you never even want to meet. They are evil and not very charming. They want Sam, Cas and I to play a little game of theirs.” 

“A game? Is that it?” 

“Hey, it’s not all that simple. You see, they want us to do certain things to play this game, and at the moment it’s pretty much easier being just an apocalypse.” 

“But people are dying. People are getting turned into these things.”

“You think we don’t know that? We’ve tried everything, every cure, every spell, and there’s nothing we can do about it until we accept this, _game_. Now I don’t know what happened to you. I’m surprised you’re not already dead considering you’re all in one piece while being in a zombies nest. But we’ll figure it out, alright?”

“Okay.”

“What’s your name?”

“John…John Watson, I think.”

“Right John, come on man.” replied Dean, patting his palm on John’s shoulder and walking back towards the car as John followed. “Okay, where to next?” asked Dean, slamming the car door shut and putting his hand on the wheel.

“Uh…Let me see.” replied Sam looking at a thin paper map with several ‘x’ marks written on it. “Apparently somewhere called 221 Baker Street. Ever heard of it?”

“Nope. 221 Baker Street I guess it is then.” Dean replied smiling and pressing a button on his radio. “It’s the eye of the tiger~~~~~!” he yelled through his voice singing, and John looking very displeased in the backseat.


End file.
